Creative Soul
by Darkcat13
Summary: A short story about a dreamers life. Looking through the eyes of a dreamer who struggles between it's imaginary world and reality.


Creative Soul

Days without thinking, wandering around in this world I can't seem to get out from. Words cross my mind, so many words. I feel the wind around me as I keep on walking. Every person that is out there passes me as if they were mere shadows. Once in a while the roads around me seem to change, no switch between what would be reality and what is mine. Even though the place seems to be changing the people don't. The only thing I see are the shadows. I look up and see the clear blue sky in which only a few clouds drift by. Why is it that sometimes it feels so much different to be here instead of the place I want to be? I wonder, That the place I created, my own little world, is where I feel best and want to think of as what is real.

Suddenly I wake up from my daze as a stranger hits me as he walks by. I look around me and see that I was at the train station already. Without noticing it I walked this far already. With that I do know that it was about thirty minutes since I drifted off. I check in and walk towards the platform I am supposed to be and look to my right. No train in sight yet so I turn around and search for a clock. It was only 7.28 AM so it would be at least another four minutes until the train would arrive. Taking my mp3-player out of my pocket I look at which song was playing at the moment. Unlocking it I start looking through the list of songs that is on it. I select the song I want to listen to and lock it again. Still having three minutes left I look around me and start observing the trees that were in front of me. A few oak and birch trees and some bushes. A few brown leaves on those trees was all that I could look at. In the distance I saw a few houses and turning my head further to the left I could see some people running towards the train station, who were probably late, and I turn the volume a little louder as the train arrives. The train stops and I get in, lucky enough to get a seat I place my bag on the ground and lean with my head against the wall next to me. It was busy as usual so I close my eyes. I concentrate my mind on the music I was listening and slowly start to drift off again. I knew it would take at least an hour until I would need to get off again so it wouldn't hurt if I took a nap.

The voices of those around me disappear one by one and different ones take their place. One of them calls out to me and I vaguely hear the words, getting clearer with each passing second.  
'Well well, look who's back so quickly I hear' the voice says, 'are you sure you should be around here so often?' I have a small grin on my face. I place my scarf a little higher, thus hiding my smiling face a little. I know that it isn't that weird to smile, but when in a crowded area it might be for those around me. Opening my eyes a little I look through the window, watching the landscape go by. In the reflection of the window I see someone sitting in front of me. A young man. From what I can see a tender build, dark purple hair, bright red eyes and cat ears. With a few piercings and a big grin on his face he looks at me.  
'I know you don't have much to do when you sit in this train' he says as he turns his gaze toward the reflection in the window. I look at him, straight in his eyes and smile.  
'It's not like you would listen to me anyway' he says grinning, 'I only am a reflection of you'. Even though my lips stay sealed, I can see that my own reflection does talk. The same words that go through my mind at that moment.  
You are right about that I say… or think. Even though I am a good listener, taking my own advice isn't something I seem to be doing much. I see a door being opened from the corner of my eye but no one enters the room. I feel a cold breeze and notice that the temperature drops a few degrees. Nothing seems to have changed.  
'You haven't noticed it before' the young man in front of me says. My gaze goes back towards him.  
'You wander around so much here lately so I thought you would have noticed by now' he says, 'That is exactly why I mentioned it. You stay here in your own imagination so much you might lose sight of what is real'.  
'But if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have been here.' I say. He grins and nods his head.  
'Well that is true.' he says. 'Then what was it with this thing you mentioned earlier?' I ask.  
'As you can create so many things sometimes your creativity takes over a little and through the world you created some of your, how shall I call it… creations come to find you' he says, 'wanting to know what brought them here. Which would be that weird knowing the story behind it.'

I look around a little. The room was still empty except for the two of us. It was a rectangular shaped room, grey-ish walls and green seats. The floor was in a darker shade of grey with some blue dots… it looks more like smudges than dots actually. When I look at the window the only thing I see is a reflection of this room, but then a little darker. I see a pair of eyes looking in my direction from the other side. As I turn around to see what it was it disappears into thin air. I shrug my shoulders and turn towards the young man that was sitting across me again.  
'Something peculiar about it' I whisper. He looks outside and I see him tilting his head.  
'Whoops, time for me to go again dear.' he says with a smile on his face. I look up and see that I am at my destination. I wake up and see people around me getting their bags and walking towards a door. I cast a quick glance at the window and see him waving at me as he blends in with the shadows. I get my bag, stand up and leave the train. As I walk forward I look at the sky for a moment.

For all those times I have been sitting there, in that room or in the world I have created I'd never seen the sky the same way as I do now. For me all the imagination I have might be a gift, but a little curse as well. I seem to have no trouble with creating things, I write stories as if it were nothing and I feel that I am doing what I can best, but on the other side I keep myself company with those I have created. I doze off often and am better in expressing myself with the written word.

A gift as well as a curse  
That is what I do  
That is who I am  
A writer

A creative soul.


End file.
